This particular event happened in the fall, around Halloween in 1991 I believe. It was late afternoon and the sun had already began to sink in the sky. That day, I decided to go for a walk in the woods behind our house. My brother Jason was the only other person home at the time. A little while into my walk through the woods, I started to hear crunching leaves in the distance, as if someone was walking through the woods. I looked around but didn't see anyone. I didn't think much of it and passed it off as being one of the neighbors. At this point, I was probably 50 yards into the woods. I continued my walk, when I heard the crunching leaves again. This time they weren't walking. They were running. Each step grew louder. I remember hearing the twigs snap under each step, and the crackle of the leaves. I whirled around in every direction and saw no one. I started to get an eerie feeling. I turned from my direction and headed back towards the house. The steps in the crunching leaves grew even louder. I quickened my pace. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone. I only caught it for a second, but it was there. It was a man running at me from my right. He was many yards away, but I could tell he was dressed in a flannel shirt that was somehow waving with him in slow motion. His face and the rest of his body was a blur. I remember hearing a yell or a scream that was certainly that of an echoing male. I could hear his crunching steps getting closer. So, I did the only thing I could think of. I ran. I ran like hell. I couldn't tell if once I started running the steps stopped, but I do know, that once I cleared the woods and came to the grass in the backyard, there was no one there. I scanned the wood-scape from the yard for a few moments, but there was nothing but silence. Dead silence. No songs from the birds and no chirping from crickets. The crunching steps and flannel man had disappeared without a trace. I knew that woods pretty well. And whatever had been in it a moment before was no longer.
I walked up to the house pretty shaken up to get my brother. At first he laughed and didn't believe me. (I could understand that hearing that sort of thing would've been pretty outrageous.) But he sympathized nonetheless. We grabbed baseball bats and headed back into the woods. We found nothing. We heard nothing. And that was the last time I ever saw flannel man.
My family and I used to live in a two-story house that my brother and I swear was haunted to this day. Over the years, there was a ton of things that happened there that none of us could explain. I won't officially say that I believe in ghosts, as I am a skeptic like most people, but I have witnessed things that really can't be explained by any other means. I've decided to share one story...
I was a sophomore in high school around this time in 1992. After school that day, I had came home and decided to draw for a while. I went upstairs, turned on my bedroom light and parked myself in front of my drawing table. I had a dresser on another wall with an aquarium on top of it, and across from that was my closet doors. I also had my own bathroom attached to the bedroom. (Which made it quite nice when you're sharing shower times with three other brothers and a sister.) I drew with my rare, but worthy .3 lead pencil. I loved that pencil. After sitting and drawing for an hour or so, I decided to take a break. I put my pencil down on my table, got up and headed for the bathroom. Afterwards, I walked out of my bedroom, turned out the light and went downstairs for a drink and smoke. I was home alone and would be for the next hour or so. I crushed out my cigarette and headed back upstairs. As I entered my bedroom, I turned on the light once more. I noticed immediately that the room was more dim. As if I had blown one of the light bulbs in the center fixture of the room. I thought nothing of it and sat myself back down at my drawing table. At which time, I also noticed that my pencil was missing. That's right, my prized .3 lead pencil was MIA. At first, I thought I might have knocked it off my table accidentally, or that I might have unintentionally taken it downstairs with me on my break. So, like any normal person, I began to re-trace my steps. But this proved to be a fruitless effort. After searching the downstairs areas once more, I came back upstairs and searched my bedroom again. Nothing. No pencil in sight. Frustrated, I stood in my room staring at the ceiling, trying to remember what I had done with it, when it came to me. I had vividly remembered placing the pencil on my table before I went to the bathroom. But why wasn't it still there? I was home alone. No one could've taken it. Then, I saw something I'll never forget. I looked up at the light fixture in the center of my bedroom, and noticed that both bulbs were still working, yet it was still dim in the room. Inside the square bug-laden glass fixture, was the shape of a dark cylindrical silhouette, resembling the size of a pen or pencil. I grabbed my chair and wheeled it near me as I perched myself on top of it to reach the object. As I pulled it out of the fixture, it revealed itself as my missing pencil.
True story. Ghost or not? If it wasn't, someone snuck into my room ninja-style and hid my pencil up there. Which is more likely? You decide.
